


Nails

by BlueRoboKitty



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Introspection, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Post S2, platonic klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 14:03:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10413810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRoboKitty/pseuds/BlueRoboKitty
Summary: Barely weeks after the events of S2, Lance decides to break Keith out of a bad habit and ends up creating a confrontation he's not sure he's prepared to deal with.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A self-indulgent fic based on some Twitter conversations that inspired me to create this. This is the kind of interaction I want to see from Keith and Lance eventually. Maybe not in S3. But eventually.

Keith's doing it again. That thing that annoys Lance above everything else he does.

 

And he's been doing that a lot now.

 

"Quit it," Lance snaps because he can't take it anymore. Keith's just finished briefing them for their latest mission, and immediately began his habit when the others were dismissed. They should arrive at their newest destination in a quintent or two, and Allura commanded them all to rest until then.

 

She comes up behind Keith like that a lot, to help Keith adjust to his new role as the Black Paladin. As if this is a permanent thing.

 

As if Shiro isn't... isn't...

 

Keith lowers his hand from his mouth as he stares at Lance with that stupid wide-eyed gaze of his that makes him look like a lost puppy. "Quit what?"

 

"Biting your nails. It's a bad habit, and you'll ruin them."

 

Keith's eyes narrow in a scowl that's far more suited for the, erm, _former_ Red Paladin. "Why do you care?"

 

This is what Lance gets for expressing his immediate concern for a teammate. Back talk.

 

Everyone stares as Lance grabs Keith by the wrist and all but wrestles him out the door while yelling, "My room NOW!" Hunk covers Pidge's eyes. Funny guy, that Hunk.

 

"What are you doing!?" Keith demands as Lance drags him down the hall containing the Paladin's personal quarters.

 

"Just shut up and come with me."

 

"Don't tell me what to do."

 

He nearly slams into Lance's back when the other stops suddenly and whirls on him.

 

"Or _what_ , O Esteemed Leader?" Lance sneers. "You're gonna kick me off the team? Tattle on me to Allura? You're only the leader because _Shiro_ wanted you to be. No one else got to have a say in the matter, just to let you know."

 

That stuns Keith to silence. Probably because Lance said the name that no one's been able to say out loud for weeks now. He doesn't say another word, and Lance brings him to the Blue Paladin room, punching in the code in the door and then pushing him not roughly inside.

 

"Sit," Lance commands, gesturing to the bed. He digs through a drawer and then joins Keith on the edge of the mattress with a bright blue pouch. Inside is a nail kit. "God, these look awful," Lance mutters when he takes one of Keith's hands and peels off his glove. 

 

That's the understatement of the space year. Keith's nails are chipped and misshapen and even cracking a bit. The skin is dry and peeling in places. The nails that aren't bitten down to the flesh have grown to terrifying lengths. Lance has his work cut for out for him making these monstrosities look decent.

 

He sighs deeply and then starts clipping.

 

"I-I can do this myself," Keith protests.

 

"Don't move. And if you can, you're very bad at it. When was the last time you trimmed these claws? And biting them off doesn't count."

 

"Um..."

 

"That's what I thought."

 

The silence that follows is long and awkward, broken only by the sharp pings of nail clippers making Keith's talons look more human. Once the clipping is done, it's time to file. Up and over Lance meticulously goes with the nail file, shaping them to smooth roundness. It's interesting, but unsurprising, how rough and calloused Keith's hands feel compared to his own.

 

"You're good at this," Keith remarks, and it sounds like a legit compliment.

 

Lance would shrug, but that might mess up the nail he's currently working on. It's quite short from being chewed on so much, but he can make it work. If Lance can make his brother's engine oil-infested hands look good after a hard day at the shop, he can do anything. "Self-care is really fuckin' important. I might not always be on top of my game, but damn if I'm not gonna _look_ the part."

 

"You've got game?"

 

"Keep up with the jokes, funny man, and I will stab you to death with this file."

 

It's actually kinda nice to see the smile on Keith's face, though, small and barely there it may be. The corners of his mouth haven't so much as twitched since they found the empty Black Lion on that horrible, horrible day. The minuscule smile still doesn't quite reach his eyes, but it's a start.

 

More silence, but significantly less uncomfortable this time, as Lance finishes up and looks at Keith's hands to admire his work. Much, much better, but he's not done yet. If he's gone this far, might as well go all the way.

 

"Thanks," Keith says, reaching for his gloves that have been tossed unceremoniously on the nightstand.

 

"Sit your ass down."

 

Keith obediently plops back down.

 

"I ain't done yet," Lance adds and goes to the bathroom to grab a small bowl of hot water. Keith's eyes widen and his mouth forms a small "oh" when Lance puts his hands in the bowl upon his return.

 

"We need to take care of those callouses of yours so you're not tempted to start bitin' at them, too."

 

"Is it really this bad?"

 

"Look, for a guy who is in a constant state of sweat, your skin is like ninety percent flawless. You are _morally obligated_ to take care of the other ten percent." Lance frowns. "Although, now that your face is closer than I'd ever be comfortable with, I can see you are startin' to break out a little. Nothin' a little space Noxzema can't handle, but stress will do that. See? Now that you're leader and everythin', you gotta take care of yourself better."

 

"Yes, sir."

 

 

 

They both freeze.

 

Keith's only ever said that to one person.

 

Lance recovers first with a cough. "It's just advice, dude, don't make it weird."

 

"Sorry."

 

Now the silence is awkward again, but Lance does his best to ignore it as he puts the bowl to the side, dries off Keith's hands, and sets to work on the cuticles and those darn callouses.

 

This is probably the longest they've ever been quiet when in the same room together. It almost feels kinda wrong somehow.

 

"Lance," Keith speaks up very, very quietly, "am I a good leader?"

 

Lance pauses, gawking at Keith. What kind of question? He wasn't exactly expecting to be put on the spot like this over a spontaneous manicure. He decides to go with the safest answer. "Shiro chose you, didn't he?"

 

"What if he's wrong? Could he have been wrong?"

 

"Maybe."

 

Keith looks startled, and Lance rolls his eyes. "If you're fishin' for compliments, dude, you're not gettin' any from me. You want the truth? You're shit at it. You're reckless, emotional, you still keep chargin' in without waitin' for the rest of us to group up, you completely ignore Allura's and Coran's advice, and worst of all, you won't stop bitin' your damn nails because that's what you do when you're wallowin' in self-pity,  _and I'm really fuckin' tired of it!"_

 

It's like a dam has burst open, and Lance is powerless to stop its flow.

 

All because of stupid Keith's stupid nails.

 

"You're so fuckin' selfish sometimes, ya know that? You think you were the _only one_ who loved Shiro? I get it. You guys were close, practically brothers. It's always been Shiro and Keith, Keith and Shiro. But just because the rest of us weren't as close to Shiro, as special to him, doesn't mean we all didn't love him in our own way. Pidge acts like she hasn't been cryin' herself to sleep every night! Trust me, I know what cried-out eyes look like! We have a huge ass pile of scultrite cookies in the kitchen that none of us are capable of eating but Hunk won't stop stress baking them, anyway! Allura's as closed off as she's ever been, and I - !"

 

Lance cuts off.

 

Keith stares at him, shaking. For a split second, Lance wonders if a fight is gonna happen, and his whole body braces itself for the blows that are no doubt gonna rain down on him at any second. 

 

But instead of attacking him, Keith just sits there. And then fat tears roll from the corners of his eyes.

 

 

What???

 

 

 

_WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT????????_

 

Lance's rage immediately deflates in a crushing wave of panic.

 

" - and I am the universe's biggest asshole," Lance finishes. "Fuck, oh my God, Keith, shit, _I'm so sorry!_ I... fuck! I didn't mean for it to come out like that, holy fuck, _ahhhh_ , fuck!" He's flailing his hands now, unsure how to begin to remedy this. Maybe he should have toned down the honesty dial a few notches?

 

 

_Why the fuck does it feel like he just made a cute girl cry!?_

 

 

"I-it's not like you're a _terrible_ leader! You do a lot of things wrong, but I mean, that's just mostly inexperience, yeah!? 'S not like the Garrison exactly trained us for fightin' in _robot space lions!_ Keith? Buddy? Oh my God, seriously, bro, there are worse leaders out there! And I'm sure they haven't gone through half the shit we've gone through! We're the only _five people_ in the universe who can save it, that kinda pressure will make _anyone_ fuck up a lot!"

 

Lance trails off because Keith won't stop crying, and he's pretty sure anything he says it just making things a helluva lot worse. It's not like Keith is loudly sobbing. In fact, for all his passion and fury, he's a very quiet cryer. Just silent weeping in his hands with only shaking shoulders and the occasional sniffle giving him away. The worst kind of crying. The kind born not from sorrow, but complete _despair._  When there's no energy left anymore. Just empty resignation. 

 

"It's just that we need you, Keith," Lance finally says softly. "We've already lost one leader, and we rely on Allura enough as it is. Only _you_ can pilot the Black Lion now, so we need you to get it together."

 

He pauses for a moment of consideration.

 

"You haven't properly grieved for him yet, have you?"

 

Keith shakes his head, rubbing at the tears that won't stop falling.

 

"See what I mean about takin' care of yourself? It ain't just about skincare. This is what happens if you neglect the emotional stuff. We all start to lose it."

 

No one's really grieved for Shiro yet. It's something everyone's ignoring. Because talking about it actually makes it all the more real. They can deal with the Galra. With liberating millions, if not billions of planets, from their rule. With Prince Lotor bearing down on them with a sadism that far surpasses his father, Zarkon. With being so far away from home and little chance of ever going back. That's a reality they can handle.

 

But Shiro being gone and the very likely possibility of him not coming back, not for a long ass time, anyway...

 

That's a reality they can't face. Not now. Not yet.

 

It's breaking them all apart.

 

And because he has no idea what else he should do, Lance slides his arms around Keith's shoulders. He's had less awkward hugs, to be honest, as Keith immediately goes stiff. He kinda hopes the smaller paladin would push him away and spare them both from further embarrassment. Instead, Keith just sinks into him, soaking the front of Lance's shirt with tears and mucus. Gross. Where's Hunk? He's so much better at this. Lance's expertise lies in comforting children, not dudes in his age group. 

 

Lance sighs, and peppers Keith's back with gentle pats. "I shouldn't have been so harsh on you, mullet. You're not doin' anything the rest of us wouldn't do."

 

"Allura should be the Black Paladin," Keith sniffs, voice muffled by Lance's shirt. "I... Lance, I can't do this."

 

"Allura has to power the Castle so it's gotta be you," Lance points out. "Shiro wasn't the only one who chose you, y'know. The Black Lion chose you. _Voltron_ chose you."

 

_"I don't want this!"_

 

"I don't think anyone in their right mind would."

 

Lance thought he did. Long time ago. Okay, maybe not that long ago. When Keith started fucking up as the new leader, Lance couldn't help comparing himself to him, thinking of how much better he could be. Lance is clearly so much better than Keith, and everyone else refuses to admit it. 

 

This is the first time, ever really, that he's seen Keith so vulnerable. So scared. And Lance would be lying if he says it doesn't freak him out quite a bit. Back at the Garrison, Keith was always strutting around. Top of the class. So talented and confident. Everything came so easy to him.

 

Now Lance began to doubt that image he's had of Keith for so long.

 

 

Doubt it a lot, actually.

 

 

"I'm sorry," he says.

 

Keith sniffs again. "For what?"

 

For a lot of things. Everything, really. But Lance isn't ready to go down that path just yet.

 

"Nothin' really."

 

Keith sits up. "You're so weird sometimes."

 

"Says the pretty boy with snot runnin' down his nose. NONONONONONO, don't you dare rub my hard work on your grossnasty face. Here's a tissue. Were you raised in a barn?"

 

"Foster care, actually."

 

Just when Lance can't possibly feel like more of a shitbag today. Make fun of the orphan. Now that he thinks about it, he really doesn't know much about Keith, does he? Keith mentioned having a father, but other than that, has _never_ talked about any relatives or anyone close to him who isn't Shiro, unlike Lance who can never seem to shut up about home these days.

 

"Shiro helped me get into the Garrison," Keith explains through a slightly clogged nose after blowing it into the ill-fated tissue. "An orphan emancipated at sixteen who barely got his diploma isn't exactly prime cadet material. He helped me get emancipated, took me in, and tutored me so I could wow the recruiter with my aptitude tests. Got the highest scores in the county."

 

Lance blinks. "Wait, you didn't go to flight school?"

 

Keith shakes his head. "Couldn't afford it. Orphan, remember? And like any of my foster parents would spend so much to send a kid who isn't _their_ child to flight school." 

 

And yet Keith was the top of their class at the Garrison. The most talented upcoming fighter pilot of his generation, so everyone said. But if he didn't go to flight school... no one has _that much_ goddamn talent. _There's no way._

 

"We never saw you anywhere else but class," Lance muses out loud as his brain points out one small detail that he's often dismissed as Keith being stuck up and cold. Back when he thought Keith was acting so much better than the rest of the them. "You'd never hang out with us. You would go into the chow hall long enough to eat dinner and then leave. Hunk used to comment on it all the time because it never looked like you were actually tastin' what you were eating. You'd never be in your room, either."

 

"You guys went to my room?"

 

"Point is, we never saw you ever."

 

Keith doesn't quite meet Lance's eyes, cheeks turning a little pink.

 

"Because I was always in the practice simulator. Logging in as many flight hours as I could, trying to... trying to catch up with everyone else. I guess my survival instinct just bullshitted the rest."

 

"You literally did not have to do that!" Lance suddenly cries, nearly jumping off the bed and startling Keith. "I mean, some extra practice, probably. Most of flight school was just learnin' the controls, really. But all that effort? All that sacrifice? You practically ignored your whole youth! And for what? Just to be at the top?"

 

Just... how fucking lonely has Keith been this whole time? 

 

"I just didn't want Shiro to be disappointed. He worked hard to get me into the Garrison, so I couldn't let him down no matter what." 

 

"Oh my God."

 

"What? Lance? Lance, what's wrong?"

 

Lance buries his head in his hands. He's not sure whether he wants to laugh or shake Keith to pieces because he sees way too much of _himself_ right now and that's just too much to take. He's not prepared for this conversation at all. He just wanted to fix Keith's nail-biting habit.

 

Yet, he can't erase the memory of all those sleepless nights, all that studying, all those extra flying hours logged trying to keep his head afloat in the tough competition of the officer training path. So the Garrison would be pleased enough to keep him. So his parents who scraped every penny they could to get him into flight school would be proud.

 

But not really for his own sake. All that effort to prove his worth to others. But never to himself. 

 

He takes a deep breath.

 

"...Take it from someone who's devoted too much energy tryin' to please and impress others. No good comes out of that. You'll end up holdin' yourself back more than anything. Like at first it's great motivation. But then you kinda like hit this wall. And there's no longer any way forward. Not until you stop carin' about what other people think." 

 

"But you just called me selfish."

 

"It's okay if you're _a little_ selfish! Oh my God, Keith, you - ! I can't believe I used to be so jealous of you!"

 

Keith blinks. "You were jealous of me?"

 

 

Welp, the space cat is out of the galactic bag.

 

 

Lance groans. "Yes. Well. Maybe just a little."

 

"Why?"

 

 _"Seriously!?_ Uh, you were at the top of our class, you looked like you have all this natural flying talent which I have now learned is a total lie, and you have near perfect skin for someone who adheres to the most basic hygienic practices at most!"

 

Lance pauses, a bitter taste in his mouth.

 

"And you were - are - really close to Shiro. Who inspired me to try to become a fighter pilot to begin with. So with you around, I thought I had no chance."

 

Keith opens his mouth, but Lance holds up his hand to stop him.

 

"Don't say 'sorry'. It's not your fault I thought it would be easier to blame you for my own shortcomin's than better myself."

 

"I was only gonna say that you sound kinda mature right now. And it's a little weird. It kinda makes me wonder if you've been bodysnatched."

 

"What?"

 

_"Invasion of the Body Snatchers?"_

 

"That dumb old movie with the evil alien bean pods you and Pidge are super into? I kept fallin' asleep."

 

"It's a really scary movie!"

 

"Beans are not scary, Keith." 

 

"They are if they can make themselves look like you!"

 

"They are _beans!"_

 

Truth be told, Lance felt like he was going to vomit when he admitted his insecurities to Keith like this just now. Yet, the moment the words left his mouth, he felt monumentally better. As if something has changed between them, something significant. Like a door opening. And the world is brighter, clearer.

 

Keith looks different now.

 

Lance can no longer see his rival on this high pedestal he has no way of climbing. Instead, sitting in front of him is a young man of barely nineteen with his world completely shattered and an uncertain future ahead of him, trying much too hard to prove himself. 

 

Lance sees himself.

 

 

Perhaps they are at each other's throats so much because that's what happens when people are too much alike, when it's easier to see your own flaws reflected in someone else.

 

 

"I'm gonna paint your nails," Lance says suddenly. "I have this really pretty red color that will go great with your new uniform. Well, black goes with everything, but that's beside the point."

 

"Um, sure?"

 

"That way when you're in battle, they'll remind you that you're not alone. You can rely on us. A leader needs his followers just as much as they need him, y'know. It was Leadership 101, we learned that on like the first day at the Garrison." 

 

Keith's smile is still very small, but this time it does reach his eyes. "But I'll be wearing gloves in battle."

 

"You'll _know_ the polish is there!"

 

It does feel nice, sitting here on the bed, Keith letting Lance paint his once chipped and broken nails a deep, glittery crimson. Lance can get used to this. 

 

"You're gonna be fine," Lance says absentmindedly as he works. "Shiro will be very proud of you."

 

He's not sure whether he's talking to Keith.

 

 

Or more to himself.

 

 

 

Maybe both.


End file.
